Going South
by Axolotlabulous
Summary: -Drabble Collection- Some brief insight into the lives of Team Zombie in no particular order. Tells the story of two immortals, and their adventures in relationship, bounties, and oceanside cities of steel. -KakuHidan- Rated T for Hidan being Hidan...ish?
1. Ice Cubes

Well. Well. Well. What do we have here?

It looks like the start of a drabble collection, that's what! :D I have recently been in love with the KakuHidan pairing, and I found a nice list of flash fiction prompts, so, why not start a drabble collection? This'll probably only go up to ten or so. But, anyways, reviews are love, and I live for love. I actually have some of this written, so I'll be updating.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto, but that's probably for the better, because if I made it, you'd just be looking at a bunch of scribbles and some bad dialogue. Nobody in their right mind would want to read that piece of garbage.

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**Ice Cube.**

"Get your feet the hell away from me."

Kakuzu looks up from his beat up paperback, his lips pulling ever-so-slightly into a smirk, stretching the stitches that keep his lips together.

"What did you say?"

Hidan pouts, wriggling away under the covers so that there was one or two inches of space between the two.

"I _said,_ get your fucking feet the hell away from me; they're freezing."

Kakuzu glances back down to his novel.

"I used to remember a time when you _liked_ snuggling up with me."

Hidan curls up on his side, shifting on the uncomfortable pallet that they slept on, since Kakuzu is too cheap to rent out a room with a real bed.

"Yeah, well, you're remembering when your feet _didn't_ feel like Jashin-damned ice-cubes."

Kakuzu puts down his novel, closing the small distance between them, replacing his feet with a much warmer thigh.

"There, is that better?"

Hidan sighs, his lower lip jutting into a pout.

"Whatever."


	2. Gloves

Second one. This is my longest story with two chapters in length! :D Wow, I'm Ah-mazing!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto. I do not own Akatsuki. If I did, I would introduce me into the story, have Itachi fall head over heels for me (pfft, yeah right), and Akatsuki wouldn't effing die! But I don't so call your lawyers off!

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**Gloves.**

They had been walking for a while; Kakuzu was silently marching ahead as always, and Hidan was lagging slightly behind, bitching about everything that crossed his mind, as always. Given, this wasn't too unusual—Hidan usually kept his complaining to a tolerable level, and Kakuzu was apt to ignore it, as was customary.

However, this wasn't exactly a totally normal situation, given that they were tracking a bounty right now, and the hunt had led them to some of the northernmost regions of the continent. So, not only were Hidan's usual complaints were among his seemingly never-ending rant (_"I'm tired!" "I'm hungry!" "Can we stop at a nice inn today?" "Stop and listen to me you asshole!"_), but a whole new category of complaint as well.

"'Kuzu, I'm cold!"

"My feet are freezing!"

"I can't feel my fucking face!"

"Can't we stop and get some heavier coats?!"

Kakuzu's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. All he wanted was silence. Five minutes of peace and quiet—nothing but the cool mountain air and the crunch of snow under his sandals as they walked. Silently.

"I think my hands are frost bitten! Can you at least spare some cash so I can get some fucking gloves?! Or are you too cheap to care about the wellbeing of my han—!"

Kakuzu spun on his heel, pinning the younger male to a conveniently located tree, pulling down his mask and claiming the albino's lips in a savage kiss, effectively silencing the masochistic priest.

"Fuck the gloves," Kakuzu rasped as he raked through silver hair and attacked a pale neck, biting down sadistically on the pale flesh, "This'll warm you right up."

Hidan wisely kept his mouth shut.


	3. Different Strokes

I… don't know about this one. It's, uh, weird. I'm not sure I like it that much. Oh well. Third drabble, comin' atcha. I might edit this later.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. Though, even if I did, I would love to look at the fanfiction just to see what kind of fan-canon there is. :D So call off your lawyers. Now.

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**Different Strokes.**

Sometimes, they don't have to talk, they don't have to scream; don't have to yell. Sometimes, they can just share glances, or small, idle touches to communicate in ways only partners could:

A tentative touch on the arm doesn't always have to mean, _Hey, I want your attention_. It could mean, _Hey,_ _are you alright? Can I get you anything?_

A small caress to stitches or at the roots of silver hairs might say, _Hey, look at me. I need you._

The hooking of index fingers pleads, _Hey,_ _don't ever leave me._

A harsh, animalistic tug on chakra threads embedded into dark flesh dictates, _Hey, shut up and take me already._

A tender stroke on the back insinuates, _Hey, cheer up or I might just have to hurt you._

A quick, sharp pull on a thread stitched into the wrist infers, _Hey, fuck off._

A pinch on the back of the neck declares, _Hey, quit bitching and cheer up so we can just get a move on!_

A roughly grabbed wrist articulates, _Hey, don't tell me to quit bitching, you money-whore!_

A slight shove states, _Hey, who the hell are you calling a money-whore, you religious Jashinistic bastard!_

Punches to the jaw reply, _HEY, NEVER TAKE THE NAME OF JASHIN IN VAIN, YOU MOTHERFUCKING FRAKENSTEIN!_

Sometimes, they don't have to talk, they don't have to scream; don't have to yell to communicate. Sometimes, they don't have to verbalize their arguments at all, because beating the crap out of each other suits them just fine.


	4. Dust

Hey there. I wrote this a while ago, but I was too lazy to put it up. I just got around editing it, but I may have done a pretty shoddy job considering I'm watching the vice-presidential debates and I'm too lazy to get a beta.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kakuzu, Hidan, or _Naruto_ in general. I don't even own the vice-presidential debates. I don't own Sarah Palin, or Joe Biden, and I definitely don't own Alaska. Have fun reading it though.

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**Dust.**

_Achoo!_

They were on a bounty. Again.

This time around it was relatively easy. They were tracking an ex-advisor to a kage that had sold secrets to other villages for profit. He had skipped town like any other sane person in his position, but with a rather hefty sum of money on his head. He wasn't an especially talented ninja, despite his close relationship with his kage, which made him excellent Akatsuki bait. Kakuzu was satisfied by the amount of profit he had garnered from the kill, and Hidan was satisfied by how utterly _easy_ it had been, therefore sparing him a large amount of effort. To put it quite frankly, it was a piece of pie.

Or cake, rather.

They had taken temporary residence in a dingy inn in southern Rice Country, which, apparently, hadn't been cleaned by the owner in about seventy years, going by its current state of cleanliness. But it was the cheapest inn around, and Kakuzu didn't want to part with too much of his bounty so soon, despite Hidan's severe allergy to dust.

_Ach-achoo!_

Though, he was starting to take that back just a tiny bit.

_ACHOO!_

"_Will you effing quit sneezing for just two seconds so I can count my money in PEACE?!"_ Kakuzu roared, spinning around in the rickety chair that had been supplied with the room. It wobbled precariously, threatening to snap under the bounty-hunter's weight.

Hidan had taken root on one of the hard bed pallets supplied to them, methodically dusting it off as much as possible. The immortal's eyes watered a little (from the allergy, mind you), and he sneezed once again before rasping, "If you weren't so cheap and you actually paid for a place that fucking _cleaned_ once in a while, I wouldn't be sneezing! So you just brought this upon yourself! Unless you can find a way to miraculously cure my allergy, you're going to have to damn well live with it!"

Kakuzu gave a haggard sigh and counted a few more bills before Hidan sneezed again. He banged his head against the table.

"I don't see how that's helping."

Kakuzu glared at dusty wood. "Screw you, Hidan."

"You would like to, wouldn't you?"

Kakuzu's stitched brow furrowed as he scowled. Blood rushed to his face, and he gritted his teeth, inwardly seething. A vein popped in his temple, and Kakuzu honestly and truly _tried_ not to take the bait, but Hidan's loud and overly obnoxious sniffle gently nudged him over the precipice.

In a fit of rage, Kakuzu ripped off his own black mask, and shoved it over the shorter ninja's head, trying to futilely suffocate the Jashinistic priest. After a few minutes of trying—Hidan struggling wildly in the stitched immortal's grip—he gave up, leaving the black piece of fabric over Hidan's face.

A few minutes of tense silence followed, Kakuzu trying to reign in his temper.

"Hey, 'Kuzu?" Hidan tried after a while. Kakuzu's nose was pressed into the desk.

"What?"

"I can breathe in this thing."

Kakuzu's brow furrowed some more. "Of course you can breathe in it. You wouldn't be conscious if you couldn't."

Hidan fumbled with it for a second, situating it more comfortably over his nose. "I mean, I'm not sneezing. It must filter the dust through or something, because I don't feel like I'm suffocating in here anymore."

"Praise the Lord." His words were laced with sarcasm that was lost upon Hidan.

"Praise _Jashin_, asshole."

"Whatever." All was silent for a while and Kakuzu was content to simply count his change. After a while a small sneeze exited from the tall immortal, but the stitched man passed it off as nothing and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. However, these occurences became more and more frequent, and Kakuzu banged his fists against the table, shocking Hidan out of the light doze he had fallen into.

"GOD DAMMIT!"

Hidan leaned on his arm, the mask still placed over his face hiding his cocky smirk from view. "Not so fun, is it?"

Kakuzu sniffled a little, glaring at the priest. "I hate you. I really do."

"I love you too Kuzu, I really do, too."

Kakuzu sneezed. A strange, almost giddy grin slithered its way onto Hidan's face.

"Jashin bless you."


	5. Primp and Preparation

Ack! I'm alive OwO. Did you miss me? (I bet you didn't. -_-;;)

Anyway, I had this on my computer for a while, and two days ago I found it again, so I worked on it.

And worked on it. And worked on it. And worked on it. I tinkered and toyed with it so much that my head hurt, and I'm still not entirely satsified with it. I just... couldn't find a way to end it well. Just looking at this makes my brain hurt. God. If I looked at it now I would _still _find something worth changing. So, basically what I did is edited it for the fiftieth time and said, "You know what? I'm just going to put this baby up and see how people like it. And I really hope you do like it. I mean, it isn't even a drabble! It's more like a viginette or a ficlet or some other nonsense fanfiction word we use to describe something like this. So enjoy. (I might have to up the rating on this story, though....)

_Warnings_: Language and innuendo! :D Yaaaay.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Naruto._ Kishimoto Masashi-sensei does. Stupid undescisive bastard. (Sorry sensei. Killing someone, but then bringing them back to life isn't really the epitome of descisiveness.)

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**Primp and Preparation.**

Hidan is a vain creature. He lives to please only himself and his god.

So, needless to say, after performing his thirty minute morning ritual to Jashin directly after waking up, he spends about forty-five minutes in the bathroom, primping and preparing for the day. And, Hidan being Hidan, of _course_ doesn't give a flying fuck whether anybody else needs to use it or not.

At first, the other Akatsuki members were extremely annoyed with the masochist's morning routine. But eventually, they had learned to cope with the Jashinist's grooming habits and instead used the time Hidan spent in the bathroom to do nothing but simply sleep a bit longer. It was the classic example of turning a bad situation into a good one.

On this particular morning though, Tobi especially needed to use the bathroom. And there was nothing from stopping him in being an all around pain in the ass, wasting no time in waking up the other members and whining about his particular problem to whomever was willing to listen.

"When is Hidan-senpai gonna be out of there?! I neeeeeeeeed to goooo!"

Zetsu—the appointed caretaker of the obnoxious Akatsuki-wannabe (and the person who normally dealt with Tobi's problems)—was conspicuously absent during this incident, and in turn left the rest of the Akatsuki at the mercy of the annoying swirly ninja's mood swings.

Oh, the horror.

Cursing Zetsu from the very bottom of her soul, Konan took it upon herself to deal with Tobi's problems in the plant-man's absence. Not wanting to aggravate Tobi even more by just telling him to wait for Hidan to finish, she could see no other solution.

She had to wake Kakuzu.

Steeling herself for the worst, she knocked tentatively on the miser's door, waited a few moments, and jumped when the door unexpectedly slammed open with such a force that it shook the wall behind it.

Kakuzu towered in the doorway menacingly. Even though he was only dressed in his hood and a soft pair of pajama pants, he still looked exponentially more formidable than normal, probably because of the early hour. Konan shrunk back a little bit as green eyes narrowed dangerously, and his mask puckered a bit around the mouth area.

"What is it _this_ time?" He growled.

"Um… Ah… Well… you see…"

Konan, quite fearful of this new, early-morning Kakuzu, slowly explained the situation so as not to offend the miser even more. Absorbing the information, Kakuzu just sighed haggardly, banging his head against the wall. He voiced his response in a low, irritated tone.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Konan looked a mix of confused and rather relieved. Confused because the banker was actually doing what she asked, and relieved because she wasn't going to get mauled by this scary morning Kakuzu. "Are you sure?" she asked.

The bounty hunter, however, was already stomping toward the bathroom. "As sure as I'll ever be," he said. And then, under his breath, "_Fucking Hidan._"

Wrenching the door open, the bounty-hunter barged into the bathroom with reckless abandon. As the door slammed shut behind him, the beginnings of what sounded like a small scuffle could be heard—sounds such as swearing and crashing and the like were prevalent. After a few minutes though, some more _interesting _noises could be heard from inside the small room; the kind that made Konan's face redden considerably. Tobi, however, ignored them, and concentrated only on not wetting himself.

Ten minutes later, Kakuzu exited the restroom with a dazed Hidan slung over his shoulder. The priest was more than bruised (were those _bite marks?_), and his appearance was definitely _not_ one of a person who had just spent more than a half an hour in the bathroom, but the priest's pinkish eyes were glazed over with a contentedness that was quite out of character for the usually cranky Jashin worshipper.

He might've been so content that he didn't notice the two highly embarrassed ninjas waiting right outside the room he and Kakuzu had just vacated, but that notion was utterly dropped the moment he gave the two a leer that would've even frightened the fur off the Kyuubi.

"Bathroom's free," he said. Tobi sprinted into the lavatory, just having enough time to kick the door shut behind him, leaving Konan to gape openmouthed at the pair. The silver-haired man gave her an innocent wave, but the leer never wavered.

Kakuzu snorted, patting his partner lightly on the ass.

Fucking Hidan, indeed.


End file.
